The Tiger's Eye

by Liz Craven (Erotic, Romance, Paranormal)

  "I know,” he told her in a voice so full of conviction, it surprised her.

  At long last, Damien pushed open a door to reveal a large bedroom. A purely masculine room, it was decorated primarily in rich burgundies and dark browns. The large four poster bed dominated the room. Under normal circumstances, Caitlyn would have been fascinated with the hand-carved detail of the posts and the gold trimmed comforter that adorned the bed, but for now all that held her attention was the sexual need that burned in her blood.

  Damien kicked the door closed behind him and before she could blink, Caitlyn found herself again caught in his passionate embrace. She quickly found herself drowning in sensation, and her mind fogged over with blind desire. He groaned into her mouth, and she felt it all the way down to her crotch.

  Frantic to touch him, she struggled with the buttons on his shirt, ultimately ripping the shirt open. She registered the popping sound of buttons flying across the room but ignored it in favor of sliding her hands against his hot skin. His chest hair felt crisp against her open palms. Without breaking the kiss, she slid her hands down his torso enjoying the feel of skin pulled snugly over rippling muscles. There was not an ounce of fat on Damien.

  She worked the buckle on his belt loose and struggled unsuccessfully with the button beneath it. He pulled his mouth free, and Caitlyn wanted to weep at the loss.

  "Easy baby,” he crooned softly and pulled her shirt over her head. His large hands went to the waistband of her jeans, and she watched his long fingers slowly peel the jeans from her. With a tug, they fell from her body to pool around her feet.

  After kicking off her slides, she stepped from the jeans to stand proudly before him in her matching bra and panty set. Something in her core demanded she exhibit herself without humility, that she display her young, fertile body to him with dignity.

  He growled deep in his chest and clutched her to him with a need that matched hers. She thrilled at the rush of pure feminine power his response produced.

  "You taste like heaven,” she confessed and elicited an inarticulate sound of pleasure from him.

  Suddenly, she was airborne. Fortunately, she landed on the soft mattress and pillows before her mind registered her flight. Lifting her head, she watched him strip out of his trousers.

  Holy God, the man went commando.

  She licked her dry lips, and her gaze focused on the hard length of his arousal. She lay half-reclined on the bed, savoring the womanly power she had over his body, grateful her job required her to keep an athletic physique. The look in his amber eyes as they caressed her form made her shiver.

  Pointing the toes of one foot, she slowly drew her leg up the sheet, bending at the knee. She draped an arm over her knee and gave him a look full of sensual promise.

  He crawled onto the foot of the bed with a predatory grace, continuing along the mattress until he rested above her, forcing her back into a prone position. He balanced his weight on his sinewy arms which were placed on either side of her body. Staring into her eyes, he slowly pressed his lower body against hers, and she felt the blood pulsing in his groin.

  Her clit gave an echoing throb. Unable to resist, she rubbed her cleft against him, knowing he could feel her wet desire through the thin satin gusset of her panties.

  The muscular frame pressed against her shuddered in response. He shifted his weight from his forearms to his elbows and slid his hands beneath her shoulders. Damien traced a deliciously slow path along her shoulder blades and down to the clasp holding her bra closed. With deft fingers, he unhooked the bra and drew it from her body. He rolled slightly off her to lie beside her and fastened his hungry gaze on her straining chest.

  Never before had her breasts felt so swollen and sensitive, the pebbled pink nipples forming hard peaks, and the man hadn't even touched them yet. With one hand, he gently caressed the outside of her breast, and she sucked in a breath.

  Amber eyes locked with hers and he held her gaze as he rubbed the pad of his thumb in a gentle circle first over one nipple, then the other. Leisurely, he lowered his head and drew an aching peak into his mouth. Her insides quivered and electricity blazed a path from her nipples to between her legs.

  His tongue traced the outer rim of her areola before giving the nipple a velvet stroke. Then he began to suckle, alternating between breasts. The pleasure his mouth gave her had black spots blooming before her eyes. While his mouth ministered to her nipples, his hand trailed down her flat abdomen, pausing to tease her navel with a feathered touch.

  "Damien,” she breathed, arching violently when his hand finally reached between her legs.

  He cupped her vulva and stroked her through her soaking panties, one dexterous finger pressing the cloth inside her. His thumb rubbed over her clit with the barest of touches.

  "Please,” she begged, convinced she'd spontaneously combust if she didn't feel him inside her.

  His head lifted from her breasts, and she became aware of her hands threaded in his hair, but she couldn't remember putting them there.

  "Do you want this, baby?” he asked, letting a finger dip under the waistband of her skimpy bikini panties.

  "Yes,” she cried. “Please. Now."

  "There's no going back,” he cautioned her, but Caitlyn's mind was too lost in the haze of passion to make out the warning in his voice.

  "No going back,” she agreed. Anything to end this torment.

  She heard the rending of fabric, and quickly found herself blessedly naked before his eyes. Amber flames raked down her body to her bare pussy. Hot fingers stroked the outside of her outer lips.

  "No hair,” he murmured.

  If she could have held a thought, she would have told him that hair peeking out of a g-string was unattractive. Fortunately, she couldn't hold a thought, which was probably a good thing, given the possessive nature the man above her displayed.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, and she groaned in response. The provocative taste of cinnamon and spice swamped her.

  That hand cupped her again. One long, thick finger slipped inside her while he massaged her clit with the heel of his hand. She bucked violently, her body dancing on the razor's edge of an orgasm. She reached blindly for where it lay, just beyond her reach.

  The hand pulled away abruptly, leaving her hanging on the brink of climax. Frustrated, she beat at his shoulders with her fists, nearly in tears.

  Damien nuzzled her ear, blowing softly into it before telling her, “Soon baby, but the first time I want to feel you cum around me."

  He positioned himself between her legs and she felt the mushroom head of his cock nestle between her lower lips, finding its place. Her head fell back, and she drew her legs up to wrap around his lean waist, giving him better access to her body.

  Caitlyn felt her body spread to accommodate not just his length, but his substantial girth. A breath hissed between her teeth at the pleasure/pain of stretching to hold him. He filled her beyond what she'd believed her body could take. At long last, she felt his heavy balls rest against her. To her everlasting gratitude, he held himself still above her, giving her body time to adjust to his invasion.

  * * * *

  The gods owed Damien a special blessing for the control he demonstrated in taking his mate. The feel of her tight, wet body clenching around him was the closest thing to heaven he'd ever known. He almost came at just the feel of her pussy clutching at the head of his cock, but the need to pleasure his mate gave him a measure of restraint.

  When he was balls-deep inside her, he forced himself to remain motionless, until he saw the tight lines of tension on her face relax and felt the barest easing of the muscles surrounding his cock. He cupped her face in his hands and traced the arch of her eyebrows with his thumbs.

  "Easy, my wildcat,” he told her, before sliding a hand between their joined bodies to massage her clit.

  Her nails dug into his back and her hips thrust against his. He pulled back until just the tip of his cock remained inside her, and then plunged back inside
her. Growling with pleasure, he buried his face in her neck and used his thrusts to guide her into a matching rhythm. The soft moans she made in the back of her throat drove him wild.

  The bed creaked beneath them as his thrusts gained momentum. Colors danced behind his eyes, and his balls drew tighter against his body. Determinedly, he increased the pressure on her clit and listened as her breath became more labored. He thrust so deeply he butted against her cervix and felt her womb begin to spasm.

  She bowed against him and let out a low cry. Her inner muscles clenched him in rhythm with her pulsating climax.

  Unable to hold back the tide any longer, Damien thrust hard into her and held. His body strained against hers as he pumped his seed into his mate with a roar of primitive satisfaction.

  He let his canines lengthen and gently pierced the skin of her neck, simultaneously marking his mate with his teeth and his seed.

  For a moment, he rested against her, their bodies slick with sweat, before rolling to his side and taking her with him. He snuggled her into his arms and rubbed his chin against her hair.

  She gave a small sigh, and Damien realized she'd fallen into a boneless sleep. Male pride at her response to his performance brought a wide smile to his face.

  Inhaling their mingled scents, he let his eyes drift shut and followed her into dreams.

  Chapter Five

  Damien awoke with a light-heartedness he'd never felt before. A glance at the warm body cuddled against him reassured him that he hadn't imagined the night before. He'd actually found his mate and brought her home.

  Of course she had no idea what she was or that she had forever bound herself to him. That could pose a problem, but Damien considered her anticipated anger over the circumstances to be nothing but an unfortunate bump in the road of happiness they would travel together.

  Road to happiness? He shook his head. He sounded as maudlin as the friends he'd teased mercilessly when they found their mates. But he finally understood the soaring ecstasy and sense of completion that discovering your mate brought.

  He lay beside her, watching her sleep as the first tendrils of dawn touched him through the window. Although he could have lain there watching her all day, she finally stretched against him and opened her eyes.

  The dismay that filled her eyes wrenched his heart, and he reminded himself that the mating fever was likely unknown to her. Her wanton reaction to him taboo in human societies.

  "Good morning,” he said with warmth, and watched amused as she sat up, drawing the sheet tightly around her. After all, she'd stripped before a group of strangers last night.

  The thought chased the smile from his face. Once he'd explained the Tigre to her, he'd forbid her to return to that place. She'd use her body to arouse only him.

  "Good morning,” she replied, her voice husky from sleep and her eyes averted from his.

  His cock tightened in response and he forced himself to subdue his response. They had to address serious matters before they could share pleasure again.

  "We need to talk,” he began.

  "No, we don't. Really,” she rushed out. “This isn't like me. I don't know what came over me. If you could just take me back to my car, we can forget this ever happened."

  He studied her embarrassed features quietly. She was young, he'd put her in her mid-twenties at the absolute oldest.

  "Where are your parents?” he asked cautiously.

  That surprised her and she raised her gaze to his. “I'm a little old to need parental supervision."

  Dancing around the subject was getting him nowhere. He always preferred a direct confrontation to avoidance. “Do you know what Tigre are?” he asked.

  Fear slid behind her eyes, and she shook her head violently in denial.

  "I don't know what you are talking about, but I've got to go. Just let me get dressed and I'll call a cab. No need for you to drive me all the way back to my car,” she replied in a voice an octave higher than normal.

  She'd obviously heard Tigre before. The scent of her fear eclipsed her natural scent. Why would mention of her people cause her fear?

  "Let me tell you a story,” he said, showing no reaction to her intensified panic. “At the dawn of time, man was more than he is today. He had the ability to change forms. To run with animals, to swim with fish, to fly with birds—to experience nature's bounty from the perspective of different species. As time went on, man formed tribes that centered around a particular animal. One tribe followed the tiger, one tribe the wolf, one tribe the eagle, and so on. One tribe of man followed no animal path and maintained no totem. This tribe believed itself superior to nature. As more time passed, the tribes lost their ability to shift into multiple animal forms, having dedicated so much of their time to one particular animal. The tribe working against nature lost its ability to shift all together."

  "I'm a little old for fairy tales,” she told him coldly. She'd scooted to the far edge of the bed and struggled to master her fear.

  He continued as though she hadn't interrupted. “The descendants of those tribes walk the Earth today. For reasons we don't know, the tribe with no totem became the most prolific. Their descendants are the human race."

  "That's nice. I'm sure you're aware the first amendment grants you the right to believe whatever you want."

  "I'm descended of the tribe with the tiger totem,” he continued. “We are Tigre and to this day have the ability to shift into tiger form."

  "Great,” she drawled. “I spent the night with a nut that thinks he's a werewolf."

  "Weretiger,” he corrected, noting her denial lacked conviction. His revelation was not news to her. She knew Tigre existed, which meant she knew she was Tigre. Why deny it?

  Her human blood made it unlikely that she could shift. Had she never seen one of her kind do so? Was this fear of the unknown?

  "Watch,” Damien instructed. He slid from under the sheet and moved to stand at the foot of the bed.

  He dropped to all fours and felt the rippling of bones and muscle that accompanied the change. Fur sprout from his skin, and his senses sharpened. Like a sneeze, it surged through his entire body, but was over in a heartbeat.

  In feline form, he crossed the room softly on large padded paws. His sense of smell a thousand times stronger, he found her scent intoxicating. A deep purr began in his chest and rumbled through his body of its own accord.

  She sat against the headboard, her back pressed flush to it as though trying to force it to absorb her very being.

  He leapt onto the bed and padded up next to his immobile mate. He dropped his massive head, careful to keep his lethal fangs and razor sharp teeth hidden from her view.

  He butted his head against the hand that rested in her lap and rubbed his body against her legs in an affectionate gesture. He fought a roar of triumphant when she let her fingers run through his fur, caressing his forehead.

  The touch was tentative and all too brief. Her hand fell back by her side and she stared at him warily.

  He'd made his point. Made it impossible for her to deny Tigre existed. Now he had to find out why she was hiding who she was.

  Reluctantly, he left the bed and shifted into human form. He donned the discarded clothing from the previous night, before his body got ideas she wasn't ready for.

  "Okay, you're right. Werewolves exist."

  "Tigre,” he corrected. “But then you already knew that, because you are half Tigre. You might as well tell me your name and who was Pride. Your father or mother?"

  * * * *

  Caitlyn closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. Her worst fears had come to pass. She'd been discovered. Even though he told her the history of shifters and had changed forms before her, she had held onto a thin—and completely irrational—strand of hope that he didn't know what she was.

  Though her fight or flight switch was turned to flight, she forced herself to leave the bed and dress calmly, surreptitiously searched for something she could use as a weapon. Not that she stood much
chance against a full blooded Tigre—especially a male Tigre—but she couldn't stand the idea of going down without a fight. She did have some dignity after all.

  To buy herself some time, she decided to answer his questions. She had nothing to lose, because he already knew the truth about her.

  "My mother was Tigre. But let me spare you the hassle of hunting her. She's already dead.” Caitlyn didn't even try to keep the tinny sound of bitterness from her voice.

  Damien sat on the bed watching her dress, trying to appear innocuous and unthreatening. Caitlyn knew better. Having witnessed her mother's preternatural strength and agility, she knew Damien could kill her before it registered he'd left the bed.

  Her eyes swept the bedroom as she pulled on her socks. Damn it. Did the man have to be so fucking neat and organized? No heavy paperweights or table top statues adorned the room. Leather-bound books lined shelves built into the wall and the bedside tables were bare. The blasted man had wall sconces instead of lamps.

  And why couldn't he have a fireplace? Wasn't a heroine supposed to be able to grab a fireplace poker? She'd never before considered the merits of fireplace pokers—heavily weighted, sharp instruments with a long reach. That would be handy about now. But no, her abductor had to keep his bedroom as sterile as an operating room.

  A macabre buzz of satisfaction went through her at the idea of the neat-freak having to contend with her blood stains blemishing his pristine domain.

  "I'm sorry about your mother,” Damien told her with genuine sympathy lacing his words.

  The need of a child to defend her mother rushed through Caitlyn, and she burst out violently, “Just so you know, she didn't intentionally break your most sacred law. She was loyal to her Pride until the day she died."

  Damien's brows drew together in consternation. “What are you talking about? What sacred law?"

  The look of sincere confusion on his face enraged Caitlyn. As a man, Damien didn't face the same consequences or take the same risks, and thus he could not even be bothered to recall a law that had so drastically affected her life.